The Chimney Swift. 
The ancient village of Bernadette, sur- 
rounded on three sides with overhanging, 
vine-clad hills, and the beautiful little river, 
I “The Spoon,” flowing at its feet, has always 
! been a favorite resort for the Chimney Swifts, 
| the low houses, with their old-fashioned, 
wide-mouthed chimneys, unused in the sum- 
| mer months, affording them just the site 
desired for a nesting-place. In these old 
! chimneys scores of them nest every summer. 
After a somewhat hazardous climb to the 
; top of one of these chimneys in the month of 
June, and after my vision had become some- 
what accustomed to the gloom, I could discern 
a dozen or more nests, arranged around the 
sides of the chimney wall, at a depth of eight 
or ten feet from the top. The dusky females 
; could scarcely be distinguished from the dark, 
sooty surroundings. 
Frightening them from off the nests, a 
(strange phenomenon would be witnessed: 
dropping a short distance below the nest they 
would distend the wings, and after the manner 
of a bumblebee on a window-pane, come 
I upwards with a buzzing, roaring sound, until 
near the top, then dropping back again repeat 
the process probably several times before they 
would rush past me out of the chimney. 
Was this strange performance on the part 
of the Swifts enacted in the hope of frighten- 
ing me away from the outlet of the chimney, 
or can they not make their exit in any other 
manner ? 
Some writers have thought that the Swifts 
: feed their young at intervals during the night. 
Anyone who has slept in close proximity to a 
chimney full of young Swifts, and heard their 
cries and chatterings at intervals all through 
the night, would believe this theory plausible, 
the feeding being done, of course, by regurgi- 
tation. This noisy habit of the young birds 
becomes very obnoxious to some persons; so 
much so that summary means are sometimes 
resorted to, to get rid of them. The hotel 
building in the village afore mentioned had an 
old-fashioned, great fireplace chimney. In its 
roomy recesses scores of Swifts brooded every j 
summer. The landlady, a fussy, nervous : 
body, was very much annoyed by their noisy 
demonstrations during the night time. Deter- 
mining to get rid of them, she took a straw 
tick and, emptying its contents into the wide 
fireplace, she set it on fire. This did the work 
for the baby Swifts, but the heartless woman 
was punished for her cruelty. The stench 
that arose from the half-roasted bodies of the 
birds was so great that for many days the 
building was almost: uninhabitable. 
In the dusk of the evening, just before 
retiring for the night, the Swifts will descend 
to the streets, and skim rapidly about close to 
the ground, getting a supper. I have seen the 
village boys, armed with long cane fishing- 
poles, station themselves on either side of the 
; street, and vainly try to hit them as they 
would flit rapidly by. The birds appeared to 
take but litlle notice of the efforts of the boys, 
and it seemed inevitable that some of them 
would be killed. But the blows, seemingly 
without effort on the part of the Swifts, would 
be dexterously avoided, and by their contin- i 
! ually returning and circling over the boys’ | 
heads, they appeared to enjoy the sport nearly 
as much as did the gamins, and their joyous 
twitterings seemed to say to them, “hit me if 
you can!” 
Swallow trees, where hundreds of these 
birds would congregrate to roost at night, 
j have been described by observers from various 
parts of the country. Two or three years ago 
| I had the good fortune to discover one of these 
novel resorts of the Chaitura pelagicd. In the 
dusk of the evening I was riding along through 
some heavy timber on the river road four 
miles below the village. My attention was 
suddenly attracted by the great number of 
Swifts that were flying rapidly about in circles. 
After observing them for some moments, I 
presently saw that their lines converged 
towards a large sycamore that stood at the 
edge of the woods a little distance away. It 
was about eighteen feet in circumference, and 
at a height of about fifty feet had been broken 
squarely off, presenting much the appearance 
of a factory chimney, the cavity extending 
clear down to the ground. Into this opening 
the birds were settling by scores. Hunting up 
a heavy club I approached the tree and dealt 1 
it a resounding whack. The roar produced 
by the Swifts rushing out of the tree could be 
likened to nothing but heavy thunder. The 
air, too, was black with the dusky birds, rush- 
ing, circling, gyrating swiftly among the trees; 
; their rapidly uttered notes of tsip, tsip , tsip, 
tsee, tsee was almost deafening, though not 
unpleasant to the ear. In a few moments they 
were again dropping rapidly into the hollow 
cavity of the tree. 
No bird produces a more singular nest than 
does the Swift. It is formed entirely of very 
small twigs, which are broken from the limbs 
while the bird is on the wing. These twigs 
are cemented together by a glutinous saliva 
from the bird’s mouth, and the whole inside 
of the nest is thickly coated with the same 
material. No soft lining, whatever, is used, 
and the nest in the form of a crescent is 
attached to one side of the wall. The usual 
number of eggs is four; but I have often 
observed six in a nest. The young birds have 
a habit of leaving the nest sometimes a week 
before they are able to fly and cling to the 
sides of the chimney, where they are fed by 
the parents till able to take to the wing. 
W. S. Strode, M.D. 
Bernadette, 111. 
O.fe O.Vol.l7,Feb.l892 p. 28-29 
